


The exorcism of Credence Barebone

by bonesonmyface



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Exorcisms, M/M, Religious Fanaticism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-09 09:22:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesonmyface/pseuds/bonesonmyface
Summary: Modern AU in which part of Auror work is to investigate and unwind cases of demonic possession of no-majs. Rating will change for later chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

Graves had expected this to be another case, just like so many of them before. With quite some years under his hat, he always thought he had seen it all. What was mysterious and horribly nerve-wrecking to most of the no-majs involved, was daily routine for him, most of the time. A dark wizard having his fun with a few unlucky fellows, a magical artifact found and kept by some poor no-majs. An unforgivable curse, sometimes. 

Cases of demonic possessions were at peak season for a while now. The Congress blamed the popular no-maj media as of late, inspiring lots of wizards to scare their neighbors, to impress a girl, he even had to handle a case in which two young witches were trying to gain youtube likes over exceptionally scary and inexplainable prank videos, completely unaware of, or actively ignoring, the severity of their endangering of the Statute of Secrecy. 

People were quick to diagnose demonic possession.

The most annoying thing about those cases was that his department had to check every single one of them. Even the most ridiculous occurrences. Not only to protect their magical world, but because professional exorcists had a credo of their own. 

If it's true to the person, you have to take it seriously. Surely, they had the advantage of the knowledge about magic, and that yes, things like possession did exist, but not exactly in the way religion tried to make it out to be.  
Still, with the way they had to blend in, in between ranks of actual official exorcists, the credulity of the people he had to deal with came in handy.

When elderly women claimed that their panholder was floating through the air, only to remind them to check if they had turned off the stove, it could technically be their dementia talking, but chances were it was a young witch or wizard, the neighbor's child, coming by to help with the garden every once in a while, while secretly trying out their newly discovered magical skills when their parents weren't aware.

Yet, all those things could threaten the Statute of Secrecy, and therefore, their entire magical community. 

And so it happened that every now and then, Graves, Head of Aurors and Director of Magical Security, had to go undercover himself to fight the threat of being imposed to the no-majs, especially when it came to the more severe cases.

The Barebone case surely was a more severe one.

The woman, Mary Lou, deeply religious, wrote a letter to her archbishop Hendriks who swiftly contacted the official exorcists. That was the point at which his department usually took over, trying to rate the case, the urgency, and if it came down to something his Junior Aurors couldn't quite handle, Graves would be send out. 

Especially handling the Barebone woman required a bit.. finesse. 

It was something Picquery would make fun of him for, every time he would put his clerical clothing back on. He pulled that look off well, really. It wasn't a big change from his Auror attire. Given time and age he was wearing a simple clerical shirt, with a tab collar insert, while Seraphina continued to mock him and try to bring him to wear an actual cassock, telling him how over the top it would make him look, even though it wasn't much of a change to his favorite long coat. 

Still, the outfit bore exactly no meaning to him, but despite that it granted him an immediate source of trusts from the believing folks. He looked convincing.

And given his quote in successfully driving the devil out, in several cases, Graves had quite the reputation among spiritual no-majs, as to why no one ever questioned his non-existent ties to any of their churches.

Their first contact with the Barebone family however, wasn't Graves. It had been Tina. Goldstein was one of his top Aurors, not always professional in her way of letting her feelings get the best of her, but definitely had the heart on the right spot. She cared a lot for her fellow teammates and her leads usually resulted in great success. But this time, she had snapped. 

She had been head of observation on the case, to watch the Barebone family, try to find out if MACUSA actually had to intervene this time or if the child was simply mental and rather needed a psychiatrist than any of their so called exorcism.  
Percival had read the reports, over and over again, questioned Goldstein upon why exactly they had to obliviate four no-majs that night, but she kept on pleading that he had to go and see for himself, telling Graves that the boy needed their help, even when he had to demote her to wand permit.

“She's hurting him, Percival, please..”

Even though he had to pull her off the case, her words left him wary. Tina didn't usually get that caught up in cases, no matter if children were involved or not.

That was how he found himself standing in his priest outfit, his briefcase pressed to his side, thick-rimmed glasses sitting high on the bridge of his nose in front of the Barebone residence. 

The whole place was pretty much isolated from the cities population, surrounded by miles and miles of nothing but dust and telephone poles. Even the blazing midday sun made everything look worse, boring, and with the upcoming heat even more hostile to life as the area already was. Why on earth anyone would voluntary try to raise three children in this place was beyond him.

When he stepped on the porch to knock, he could already hear footsteps shuffling behind the door. A woman pulled the yellowed half-curtain to the side, skeptically eyeing him from behind the window, before drawing it shut again.  
Percival corrected his collar with a small huff, when he heard a click and the door opened just a gap. The woman opening the door looked worn out, probably having to deal with whatever demons she had reported in her letters at night, if he had to guess.

“Mrs. Barebone.” he greeted her, giving her a small nod, but she didn't even let him continue. 

“You must be the priest archbishop Hendriks sent.” she said, obviously expecting him, but also being leery of strangers. He wasn't a familiar face from their weekly meetings, after all, and certainly not a member of their parish.

“That I am, Mrs. Barebone. Percival Graves. I am here for.. the boy?”

“Not out here! Come on in.” she ushered him, opening the door a bit wider for him to enter, while all Graves did was raising an eyebrow at her. There was no one out here to hear them, no neighbors, not even cars trespassing, nothing. 

But who was he to question, when he wanted to remain the woman's good graces for now.

Mary Lou led him to the living room, offering him a seat on the couch. The whole house seemed to be decorated in tiny figurines, religiously symbols, leaflets were lying around at random. With amusement, he caught a glimpse of Witches are among us! on one of them, and politely didn't comment them it in order to take a seat. Tina had also mentioned the woman's.. extreme views on everything remotely magical. All the more reason for them to unwind this case quickly. 

Everything inside of the house looked rather worn, paint was chipping off the walls, the furniture, and despite the religious symbols, there was barely any decoration around, nothing personal, as it seemed. 

But, well, he wasn't here to judge the interior style.

“So..”

“He is upstairs. Modesty is taking care of him, there was another incident last night.”

“Another incident?” he inquired, patiently raising his glance and folding his hands, even though he was not in the mood for her vague secrecy. “I fear you need to be more specific. The boy, Credence, you wrote he's been having unnatural seizures.” 

The look she gave him was one of a woman who had been slapped across the face. “Yes, Father.” she replied, almost automatically and calculating, as if she needed to collect her thoughts while pondering her answer. “I trust you treat this matter with discretion..” 

“Of course, Mrs. Barebone.” The smile he shared was barely a necessity to hide how annoyed he was by all the ongoing secrecy. Really now, she had contacted the archbishop for Merlin's sake, but she still worried word would go around her parish, rather than a quick healing for her son.

Adoptive son, he had read. 

“These seizures aren't holy, Father. We've witnessed them, several times. He's with the devil, I can tell. I always knew Credence was a sinful child, his mother-” At that, she stopped her own stream of words, probably realizing how worked up she got over them.  
Graves let her continue, patiently. 

“It doesn't end with seizures, his eyes roll back into his skull, showing only white, his body twists impossibly, like a snake, and there is thick, black smoke, straight from hell, gathering around him – it is when we flee. He gets violent, wrecks his own room, Father, one day we found his bed turned upside down, standing against the wall.” She took a deep breath, her hands were twisted in the hem of her blouse, obviously trying to remember what else gruesome detail she could share with him.

“We tried tying him down, I tried beating it out of him, making him pay for his sins, but it is to no avail. We are scared for our lives, father.”

Graves raised his eyebrows. It was important to take her serious at this point, yet it was part of pretending to be a professional exorcist to doubt as well. “That sounds alarming.” he told her,  
remaining calm and collected on the outside, while already trying to figure out how much of this was religiously bullshit and what could potentially be true.  
Yet, it wasn't only the described symptoms that put him on edge. It rather was her way of dealing with it. 

“First of all, I need you to stop trying to influence him in his behavior. I would like to see him, now, and for an ongoing observation, but I need to see his true nature.” Stop beating him, you old hag.

She nodded, once, just slowly retracting back into her more reserved state. “Very well. I will bring you to him.” She didn't comment his request when she got up to lead him upstairs, and Graves was perfectly sure that a few words wouldn't be enough to make her stop hitting the poor boy, and maybe he should just inform no-maj authorities and take those kids away from her immediately.  
Still, that wasn't entirely his business, he was here for Credence's so called demonic possession first of all, the rest could be arranged later.

When they got closer to the bedrooms, a young girl left the room to the left, a fearful look drawn across her face when she locked it with a key, before handing it to her mother. They were obviously believing that whatever was wrong with Credence could be contained by a simple lock. But maybe Mary Lou was just cruel and liked to lock the boy in.

Either way, the blonde girl with the pigtails lifted her chin, looking up at him with what he thought was hope now, before speaking quietly, but not without a cautious side glance towards her mother, as if not sure if she was allowed to address a stranger in their house at all. “Will you help Cree, Father?”

Something about the way her voice almost broke, made him nod in sympathy. “I will try, Miss.” he agreed, obviously not promising anything he might not be able to fulfill, but wanting to reassure her anyway. 

She seemed to be satisfied with his answer for now, or maybe it was the monitoring glance her mother gave her, before she left to what Percival guessed had to be her own room. 

“Credence, you have a visitor.” Mary Lou called upon unlocking and opening the door. Percival followed after a few respective seconds for the boy to collect himself before he entered. “This is Father Graves. He is here to help you, to drive the evil out of your wretched body.”

Percival cringed at her words, trying not to let it show too much when he pressed his lips thin, and then nodded at Credence first, before turning back at Mary Lou. “Please, Mrs. Barebone, I would like to have a word in private with him first, if I may?” Usually, he had no problem keeping those involved in the same room when he started interrogation, but Mary Lou Barebone was a pain in the ass and getting on his nerves so much he was shocked that he already started to sympathize with Tina, who must have snapped at some point as well. Still, it wasn't professional at all, and definitely not what was needed here. “This is normal procedure.” he tried to reassure.

“Of course, Father.” she replied, almost automatically, and it was obvious that she was doubting his methods already. Now, that would be fun to work with.  
One last glance was thrown at Credence, full of disdain as far as he could tell, before she left the room, and closed the door as she went.  
At that, Graves saw Credence's whole frame slump together just slightly, as if the boy had been holding himself to trying to keep his composure more upright as long as his mother was near. And Graves found himself releasing a breath he had been holding for a while as well. What a dreadful woman.

The boy, Credence, was sitting on his bed in the middle of the room, which was, next to a desk by the window, a wardrobe and the crucifix on the wall, the only things currently in his scarce bedroom. Certainly odd for someone his age, but probably to be expected, given his background. Or rather, the influence of his mother. 

It was visible in the way he held himself too. Making himself appear to be smaller now, his back hunched slightly, horrible bowlcut, scars spreading over his clenching hands, disappearing under the hem of his sleeves but most likely not stopping there. 

Graves features softened. “I am in fact here to help you, Credence. But let us slow down with the calling for any rites yet. First of all, we need to find out what is going on here.”

For a moment, he thought the boy to be deaf, given his silence and the turned down glance, as if he hadn't heard him right. Technically, Graves hadn't asked a question either, but he usually expected some kind of recognition that his opponent understood. 

“There is something wrong with me, Father.” the boy muttered eventually, not looking up. It sounded entirely rehearsed, more like words that woman had beaten into him, than his own beliefs and it was said so quietly, he almost didn't catch it. 

“That is what we need to find out. Can you tell me why you would belief that?”

There was another moment of silence, and again, Graves wondered if Credence had heard him at all. What he didn't expect, was him to slowly lift his head, questioning, hopeful eyes catching his for a short moment. “Are you a friend of Miss Tina, Sir?”

Graves almost toppled over as he turned on his heels too fast. 

“You remember Tina?”

“That is a wand in your pocket, isn't it?” Startled, Percival touched the outline of it against his thigh, but it was too late anyway, there was no making it out to be an exceptionally long fountain pen. For a moment, he didn't know what to say.

“I had a suspicion that I weren't supposed to remember her. My sisters forgot and Ma doesn't remember her either. But she was so nice, I didn't want to forget her.” he said, glance finally tearing from Graves. “You're a witch, like her, aren't you?” he whispered, in fear his mother could hear. Or maybe, just in fear.

Oh, how he damned Tina. 

“You are right, you weren't supposed to remember that, Credence.” he explained calmly, because the cat was out of the bag now, and he had to fix this anyway.  
Drawing his wand from his pocket now, his eyes were focused on the boy in front of him. Graves was annoyed by the the Obliviators sloppy work, because really, that boy was one of the main subjects of the case and they would fail to perform the correct memory charms on him? 

“Close your eyes.” he instructed him when he took a seat on the bed next to him, not wanting to scare him off by towering over him. A hand was put against the boy's neck, drawing his head in just a little bit.  
Immediately, Credence flinched, and Percival had a suspicion that it wasn't solely for the reason he hadn't asked for permission to touch first. “Don't worry, it won't hurt. I was told it's quite pleasant, like a warm blanket wrapping around you, leaving you feeling.. less distressed.”

“I don't want to forget her, Mr. Graves. She is nice.” he admitted quietly, not looking up.

“I know.”

When Graves put his wand against the boy's temple, a few things happened at once. The single light-bulb in his room, which had been turned off, lit up once, to full power, and burst into a thousand little pieces in the matter of seconds.  
The tip of his wand produced a bright light, matching the bursting light-bulb in intensity easily, and Percival was definitely not the source to cast that one – and then Credence pushed him off of him with so much force he fell off the bed before he had the chance to catch himself. 

From his position on the ground, he could hardly see the boy trash on the bed now, the heels of his hands pressed over his eyes, there was some kind of smoke, a deafening screeching sound all of sudden that didn't seem to come out of his mouth, as it was closed, his whole body spasming, fighting against something Graves couldn't see.  
There was the smell of magic too, so prominent no wizard could quite possibly miss it and when he scrambled to his feet again to help, and to shield himself, a quick Protego on the tip of his tongue already to guard himself, Credence had already changed back to being a trembling mess on top of his bed, hands still clutching his eyes. 

The smell of magic was gone as fast as it had appeared, and Graves stood watching from a small distance, wand still raised in alarm, as Credence cried and shook on the bed, tiny broken sobs and “Help me, help me, Sir, help me please..”.  
The boy looked up eventually, when he wrapped his long arms around his knees, rocking himself, making him look younger than he really was. Empty eyes just slowly filled back with life.

From the other side of the door, he could hear footsteps, and tiny gasps, hushed voices asking each other what was happening inside. He ignored them. 

Fighting his initial shock and replacing it with pity when he approached the boy again, he touched, again, his shoulder, but kept his wand close too, expecting the worst, but nothing happened.  
“Credence.. calm down.. I am here to help you.” he tried to break the boy's sobs, but to no avail, because now he started apologizing instead of pleading, and Percival had to take a few deep breaths to calm his own racing heart. 

At least, it wasn't some kind of stupid youtube prank, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm deliberately changing the dynamics of how memory charms are supposed to work, please bear with me.


	2. Chapter 2

Graves didn't end up obliviating him. 

That's what it was called to make someone forget, Mr. Graves told him.

As far as Credence was aware, one couldn't blame him for not trying. He did. Twice, after their initial incident. Funnily enough, it didn't work.  
From a distance, with wandless magic too. Mr. Graves explained a lot to him, probably thinking it wouldn't matter as long as he'd make him forget afterwards. Just that he.. didn't manage to do just that.

Of course, Credence still didn't want to forget. It was amazing. Magic was. And even though, his first encounters with it weren't too positive, he wanted to learn more about it.

The last time they tried to obliviate him, Graves seemed almost sure it had worked, as he was about to leave his room. 

And Credence, still slightly hazy from the procedure, the warm wash of magic really wasn't that bad, just muttered a weak “I don't think it worked, Mr. Graves. I still remember what you are.” at which the older man audibly groaned. 

Credence had to bite back a smile, despite not knowing if this was good or bad, but.. he liked remembering it. For now, anyway.

\--

There were only a few possible explanations as to why he wasn't able to successfully obliviate a no-maj.

Graves was almost sure Credence was, in fact, possessed. Frankly, not in the classic, religious definition of the word, not possessed by demons or the devil himself, how Mary Lou liked to put it.

No, Credence's possession seemed to have a magical origin. It didn't exactly make this case easier, but for starters, Graves was glad for knowing he was actually needed out here. 

A real case, so to speak.

“I will leave, Mrs. Barebone.” he tried to explain to her, despite her resentfulness, practically throwing her hands in the air as if that would make him stay. “There is nothing more I can do, not tonight.”

“Have you not seen-” 

Graves cut her short, raising his hand to signal her to stop the tirade. “I saw and I understand how severe this situation is. But for now, I need to watch, and wait to recognize the source of Credence's condition.”

She made a face, as if he had insulted her. “I told you what is wrong with him, he is possessed by the devil himself, like his wicked mother-”

“Please, Mrs. Barebone, I need you to trust me. I am aware about how Credence' s condition is debilitating, for him, for you, for his sisters. Before I can truly help him, I need to find out the exact circumstances in which he is in, I need to be observant, before we can go on about and truly help him. I promised you I would treat this with discretion, but in return I need you to be patient.”

This at last, seemed to calm her down a little bit and Graves was sure it wouldn't last long. “I see, Father. Do as you like then.”

“Very well, here is my number, in case Credence's condition gets worse. Please, contact me immediately should that be the case and – you own a telephone, do you Mrs. Barebone?”

“Of course we do. For emergencies only.”

“Perfect. I would like to accompany you to your weekly meetings tomorrow, you mentioned in your letters that you're still taking him with you. I will try to blend in and stay in the background, of course, but it's important to see how he interacts with people outside of his family.”

He needed the time for research mostly. Check his no-maj school, see if any of his former classmates have magical siblings, as it wasn't completely unusual nowadays. It would be his first lead. 

It was possible that someone of the families milieu was the source for the boy's condition. An ill-wisher of Mary Lou's, who, given her open work against everything magical, had to exist somewhere. 

It just pissed him off that the children had to pay the price for that.

Percival made sure to put up enough wards to shield the house from any magical force trying to enter that wasn't himself. Then again, he doubted whatever caused this would actively try and physically enter the house.

\--

Credence immediately noticed the handsome man standing among the people waiting for their meeting to begin the next day. Well, Mr. Graves stood out, no matter how much he was trying not to and blend in for this.

Politely, Credence tried not to stare and only smiled briefly when their glances met, before he was continuing to do his part in helping his mother.

The weekly meetings were held in the community halls in the village closest to their home, and Ma was leading it, she was the only one actually preaching of course. Sometimes, Chastity was allowed to chime in, and Credence felt odd that she would come after Mary Lou so much.

Because sometimes, she got beaten too. Far less than he was, of course, but somehow she always accepted it as an act of salvation.

If Credence would feel better about it seeing it that way, he didn't know.

Actually, Mary Lou hardly changed her preaching, not the topics at least. It made him wonder why so many people still attended it, weekly, they didn't have to, they were free not to, in some way at least.

When his mother started to go off about witches, like every week, Credence found himself cringing for the first time. Mr. Graves was here, after all. He was a witch – well, a wizard, he had said – but as far as Credence was aware, the man was far from wicked and evil like Mary Lou would of course preach magical folks to be to their parish. 

Would he find it funny? Or rather be offended? Would he get angry? Would he leave?

Credence stopped staring at the floor for a moment, searching the man's face in slight paranoia, but was relieved to find him looking back, maybe somewhat amused, Credence wasn't sure, but Mr. Graves was definitely still there and not about to bewitch his mother in anger, at least.

At the end of the meeting, when he was to collect money from their well-wishers, Credence wasn't sure if he should include Mr. Graves at first. He didn't want to bother him, but he also didn't want to make him look suspicious, so he stopped his walk in front of him, giving him at least a chance to react, before he would pass him. Graves was quick to pull out his wallet though, giving him quite a few dollar notes, more than most of the others, before he put them in his hat. 

It was then Credence looked at him, truly looked at him, probably a bit too long, because Mr. Graves surely expected him to say something now. “Thank you.” he muttered, rather quietly, and the man nodded once, in reassurance that this was alright. Credence did the same before he continued to make his way back to his mother, for her to collect and count the donations.

He knew the only reason Mary Lou still allowed him to go to these meetings was because she needed him for the soup kitchen.   
Maybe to find salvation in her repeating words too, but he could most likely preach along by now, so he didn't see the point. 

Also because whatever was causing him trouble was only ever acting up at night. 

Mr. Graves was still watching them, even when most of the other adults had already left. It was obvious he was still trying to find out what exactly caused his condition, as he liked to call it, but it was obvious for the boy, that it wasn't anyone surrounding him. 

Credence was twisted in so many ways, there was no way this was someone else's fault. He was to blame himself, and needed to suffer for it.

He almost spilled the bowl with the soup upon being so invested in his own mind for a moment, and immediately Mary Lou scolded him and told him to pay more attention.

Later, when they were done with the kitchen, and had put everything away and made the dishes, Credence went over to a waiting Mr. Graves, a bunch of pamphlets in his hands. 

“I have to hand these out now, Sir.” he explained, unsure if Mr. Graves still fancied to watch him any longer.

“I will accompany you then, if it's alright.” he said, with such a warm voice it made Credence think he had offered him something as great as a trip to the cinema to his favorite movie. At least that was how he would have reacted then.

He had to pull himself together to not look overly enthusiastic about it. “Yes, of course Sir.”

\--

The High School lead was a dead end, surprisingly. This far out in the desert, it was hard to make out any sources of their magical world, all of Credence's classmates were unknowing no-majs, as well as the teachers and everyone else he could have possible come into contact with. His department was doing background checks on the entire parish, but it would take more time, which Percival decided he would use to get to know the family better.

He made his way down the street with Credence now, towards a town square of some sorts, if one could even name it that. There wasn't much around, a few shops, few people passing by, which made him doubt the reach of these activities.

“Why don't you go with your sisters?” he asked eventually, finding it rather odd the boy would stay here on his own, boring himself out on a sunny afternoon with only a few regulars crossing his path, most of them probably already aware of the cause Credence was working for. He didn't need to spread word, and yet here he was.

“It's.. I don't like waving the signs in front of the clinic. It's more likely to get.. spit at. Only happened to me, of course, I think they're holding back on my sisters and Ma, because they are women. Not likely to be called freaks. Around here, no one really cares, which is fine with me.” 

Graves sighed quietly, understanding but not commenting the boy's explanation.

It was then when Credence looked up, head tilting hesitantly and with something such as mischief in his eyes? 

“Also, it is far easier to get rid of those when I'm alone.”

Was that a somewhat triumphant, smug smile spreading on the boy's lips?

Graves raised his eyebrows at him, in confusion, thinking he hadn't heard right. “You what?”

“You heard me, Father.” Credence had refused to use his fake title up until now, most likely because it was, well, fake, and that could only mean that he was using it to.. tease him?

Percival blinked a few times. Credence was full of surprises. It had stunned him enough that the boy had been even allowed to visit a public school, while his sisters were homeschooled, but it had been his own request that Mary Lou somehow had agreed to, and now claimed that it had corrupted him furthermore, of course.

But having Credence actually, actively, revolting against her and their church, made his eyebrows almost meet his hairline. 

After a few moments of silence, he witnessed him shuffle nervously, as if he was starting to regret saying anything at all, and it was then that it appeared to Graves that Credence had been serious about it. He couldn't help but let the bark of laughter escape.

Credence started to grin too.

“You're full of surprises.”

The boy had the nerve to look actually proud, and for some reason, Graves was sure that he was the first person Credence had confessed this to.

“Do you want see how I get rid of them?” 

Percival chuckled, still wondering how Credence thought him trustworthy enough, but certainly didn't complain. 

“Show me.”

\--

Credence's secret on how to get rid of the pamphlets he was supposed to hand out was to use the public library's shredder, being stationed right next to the copying machine, trying to lie low while picking up a few books to read in the mean time. 

It was so simple, so unspectacular, but he could clearly see Mr. Graves stifling another laugh.

Credence just smiled at that.

There was no way the lady on the counter didn't notice, but she didn't say a word. Credence liked to think she was with him, but she most likely just didn't care.

When he took a side-glance at Mr. Graves, he found himself being watched. He tried not to blush at that, but it was hard given the way they were standing so close.

He could guess what he was thinking about now though: how could someone like Credence, religious background and all, pull off something like that? Actively revolt against Mary Lou and destroy those pamphlets that had cost money, donation money at that?

And that he was actually proudly sharing it with him? Well, Credence wasn't exactly proud of what he did, but there was a certain thrill to let someone else in on it, on one of his obviously weaker sins. 

On top of that, Mr. Graves wasn't supposed to tell him about magic, which made them even. Somehow. 

Probably not. But Credence liked to take this as an excuse, for now.

“I only sneak away when I'm sure she won't make it here in time. Hospital is too far away. They're usually at it for a while, people tend to get.. angry over there.” 

Mr. Graves actually had to lean in to understand him right, it seemed, and maybe he should stop it with the hushed whispering. “There's a reason for this place though. I love to read, but she won't let me take any books home. It was a struggle with school books too. I mostly had to do my homework at school. She thought I was a layabout. Didn't like that, either.”

“And you have the guts to do it anyway.” Graves blurted out, obviously being surprised and trying to figure out how all of this fit into the picture of the quiet, shy church boy Credence liked to put up.

“Of course. Who wouldn't.”

“Well-”

“I'm already turning out badly. So what does it matter. Can't be a sinner twice.” he shrugged. 

They were interrupted by a cough, and a stern glance by the counter lady and Credence blushed slightly, again. “Maybe we should go.”

Mr. Graves just nodded and with that, they made their back to the community hall, leaving behind colorful shreds in the waste bin next to the copy machine and a librarian eyeing them warily as they went.

\--

They hardly received another wary glance when they reunited with Mary Lou and the girls in front of the building. Graves already wondered if she would mind that he spent the day with Credence, he was supposed to treat this discreetly after all, but there was only so much he had to do to offer them help. 

Percival accompanied them back to the house, but not before checking back with his Aurors on any progress first. 

Frustratingly enough, they didn't come up with anything. It was what he had feared, after practically having received half the tour around town. The parish and general attitude against everything differing from the norm wasn't supported here, and therefore made it even more unattractive to live here for magical folks. 

So far out here, there wasn't a hint of anything magical. 

Well, except for the Barebone household.

He had asked Mary Lou for permission to stay the night this time, wanting to concentrate more on the boy himself, and the house, now that he almost excluded any of the townspeople to be the source of all this. 

Generally, he would try not to get.. involved too much. Let the people grow to him too much. His usual route was to watch, observe his cases, find a solution to their problems and vanish. The risk of being exposed as a wizard himself was simply too high.

Somehow, the Barebone family was different.

It was clear that Mary Lou wanted salvation for Credence, and maybe it was just her twisted way of showing that she cared. 

However, he didn't plan on actually letting the children stay with her. Once he was done with finding out about Credence's condition and actually helping him, he would make sure no-maj authorities would take them away from that woman.

Credence would probably be able to live on his own, given his age.

Actually, with Credence being in on the knowledge of the magical world now though, Graves still needed to come up with a way to fix that.

The boy was receptive towards the knowledge of magic, another thing Graves wouldn't have expected of him. He would have thought him to be more.. scared of all the things, really.

“Credence, show the Father around while I prepare his room. Dinner will be ready at 8.” Mary Lou barked, before she went upstairs, taking the girls with her. 

Graves gave him a look, eyebrows drawn up, before he shrugged. 

“We haven't changed anything, as of late, or brought anyone into here that could've done it. That's what you're looking for, right?” Credence asked nonchalantly upon showing him the kitchen, before leading him out to the backyard. 

“Yes, that's what I'm trying to figure out.” 

“I think you're wasting your time. It's about me. It's my fault.”

Graves wasn't having it. “What makes you think that?”

“I am wicked. Always have been, for as long as I can think.” Percival was about to kick the grass in annoyance. It didn't sound like something he would actually believe, but rather something she would make him say. 

“Why would you-”

“Not out here.” he cut him off, making a gesture to one of the windows upstairs. Graves barely saw the curtain shift close and nodded, following the boy back inside. Half-heartedly, he was being shown around the rest of the house, and then being led into Credence's room. 

\--

They spent the better half of the afternoon just talking.

Mr. Graves was obviously surprised to hear he had finished High School at all, as well as he was about the fact Credence had been allowed to visit a public school in the first place. Both of his sisters were homeschooled. 

Credence had been persistent enough.

Sometimes, it came in handy that Mary Lou was also scared of him, slightly at least, among other things.

“Why don't you leave then? You've got the knowledge, the wit, you could try and get away from here easily, don't you think?”

They were sitting across from each other. Eventually, Mr. Graves had been comfortable enough to just sit on the bed, while Credence had dragged his desk chair across the floor to face him. 

He hesitated, looking to the door, as if to find out if his adoptive mother was standing there, before whispering. “She won't let me.. and I don't want to leave Modesty behind.” 

He left out Chastity on purpose. They didn't get along well. She was.. too much like Mary Lou already. He didn't need to mention it though, and Mr. Graves didn't ask.

To his surprise, he found the look on the man's face soften. He smiled. Credence couldn't help but return it, feeling the heat crawling up his cheeks.

“You're a special young man.”

At that, he found himself biting his lower lip, desperately trying to will the blush away. “You're the first one to call me that, without making it sound.. bad.”

Mr. Graves did that thing he did a lot when Credence was being cryptic in his answers, which was almost all the time. He furrowed his eyebrows and the boy wondered how much he must have stared already to notice a pattern in the man's behavior. 

“Special?”

“Young man, too.”

For a moment, Mr. Graves lowered his glance, letting his eyes rest on his hands, the gesture somewhat reflective, but the fond smile from before was back. “Sounds like you met a bunch of assholes in your life.” he said, casually, swearing inside this house as if his mother wouldn't throw a fit and probably combust upon hearing it.

The obscenity of it however, made Credence grin in return. Mr. Graves was acting so far from how a priest was supposed to be like, not just a real one, but probably also his made up version of one. It made him wonder how often the man had been able to successfully playing people like that, or if magic played a big part too.

Well, something told him that the way the wizard treated him was special in his own way, given the sole fact that he was still allowed to keep this memory. It made him wonder if Mr. Graves had forgotten or simply given up. For now. 

Probably the later thing.

“It's funny someone like you would call someone like me special.” he admitted, and received a humorless laugh in return. 

“Well for me, this isn't so special anymore.” Without using his wand, Graves let a small flame emerge from the tip on his finger. Credence didn't even try to stifle the gasp escaping his throat. He was shuffling closer with his chair, making almost no sound on the worn carpet, until he was sitting close enough.

“May I – Can I touch?” he asked, spellbound by the flames. 

Mr. Graves nodded. “Go ahead.”

And Credence didn't think too much about it, too caught up in trying to understand how one could possibly cast a bunch of really realistic looking flames on the tip of his fingers, so he touched and then hissed, instantly pulling back his hand and shaking it. 

The look he gave Mr. Graves was one of fake betrayal, while the man simply sat there and watched, before he noticed the grin spreading on his face. 

“It's real.” Credence pouted.

“Well, of course it is. Magic is.”

“You could have – told me not to.” he muttered, still blowing on his fingertips to make the pain vanish faster. 

“It was a test.” Graves shrugged, still looking far too smug for Credence's liking. “I'm not sure if you passed it or failed though. Yesterday, when I tried to obliviate you, and my wand, my magic, came into touch with you, well I don't need to tell you it went badly. But it's not my magic you're reacting to. Give me your hand.”

The tips of his fingers were starting to hurt quite badly, and he knew he would get blisters on them. Having Mr. Graves request something like that though, it made him hesitate. His hands were a mess, even without any possible burn blisters. There were scars all over, fresh wounds too, crawling all the way up his arm. They were on his torso too, but there was no way the man could see that.

“Come on, I will make it better.”

Somehow, this reminded him awfully of the phrase kissing it better, so naturally he blushed when he offered the older man his hands. 

He did blush a lot lately.

Graves didn't even touch them, but the warm wash of magic was immediate. Not a burning sting like the flames, but a warm wave taking care of the ruined skin. Credence watched in awe as his scars and bruises faded and some of them even vanished completely.

He was sure he looked a bit dazed, and he certainly wasn't sure about that blush anymore, but whispered a quick “Thank you.”, finding it hard to look the man in the eye once again. 

If Graves noticed the blush, he didn't say anything. In fact, his glance was still resting on his hands, carefully turning them in his palm now. Obviously to check on the scars..

“I'm surprised you take so well on magic. I thought you would be more.. reluctant. Given everything.” The man was vaguely gesturing at the door, and Credence nodded, still trying to look anywhere but at his face. 

“I doubt a lot of what she's trying to make me believe.. but not everything. I think that's part of what makes me a bad person.”

“Credence, you are not a bad person.” 

“Mr. Graves, when you left last night.. you left something to protect us, right?” Again, he noticed the look of confusion crossing the man's face. 

“You saw that?”

“I did. And I think it's wasted. There is no point in trying to protect a house, when the source of evil is already inside.”

Graves just looked at him, for a long moment, obviously contemplating if he should take him serious this time. 

“You know, saying stuff like that, Credence, is what will make your mother go haywire.”

Well, he didn't then.

Before he could even voice his frustration, there were angry steps approaching from the staircase. “Dinner is ready and we're waiting for 10 minutes already!” Chastity yelled even before she actually opened the door.

Graves let go of his hands then, but leveled him with a glance. He wondered how much longer they would avoid actually talking about his possession. Or rather, at what point the man would even start to believe him. Really believe him.

When they followed Chastity and Mr. Graves downstairs, Credence absent-mindedly touched the back of his hands, wishing the warmth to come back to him. 

\--

Mary Lou already looked pissed when they appeared in the dining room. Modesty was hardly sitting on her chair, looking down at her full plate, obviously trying to make herself as small as possible, probably not wanting to attract her mother's fury. 

Percival sat next to her, at the head of the table, and nodded in her general direction. “Apologies. I got caught up in our conversation.” he told her, somewhat lamely.

After he had the honor of reciting the dinner prayer, Mary Lou started to really acknowledge them again, it seemed. “How is the progress on his.. condition, Father?” she asked, over the brim of her glass. 

Percival looked up with nothing but eloquence and a polite smile. “We are making progress, Mrs. Barebone. Right now, we're ruling out what is not the cause of these happenings. I hope you are aware that it includes me getting to know Credence a bit more, talking to him at first hand.”

He shed a side-glance at the boy, who didn't look back, probably not so amused they were talking about him, while he was still sitting right next to them. Well, who wouldn't.

She obviously didn't buy any of it. “Aren't priests nowadays supposed to work with the advantages of our modern world? Observe him with cameras and tapes, wouldn't it be more efficient, Father?”

Graves would have laughed if the situation would allowed him to. These no-maj's and their tacky popular media. “Didn't we agree that I would treat this with discretion? Mrs. Barebone, look, I see you must be longing for a quick solution, but sadly there is none. Demonic possession, as you like to call it, comes in many forms nowadays and I don't want to risk hurting your son with rash actions.”

For a moment, Mary Lou only did look at her plate, and Percival thought that maybe he had appeased her enough for tonight, but he wasn't that lucky.

“You know, Father, Credence wasn't an easy child.” she started and Graves had to refrain from rolling his eyes at her. This again. “His mother, oh, she was wicked. A demon of her own kind.”

Across the table, he could see Credence clenching his fist around the fork he was holding. 

Somehow, it would make sense to hear more about the boy's real background, about his mother if it was possible, but he would rather let his Aurors do a, well, discreet background check than talking about it over dinner, while Credence himself was present.

“His mother was a witch.” she hissed, and Graves was most likely making it up, but the room's temperature dropped by a couple degrees at that moment. Another glance thrown at Credence didn't reassure him either, the boy was still staring at his plate, but had stopped eating. The knuckles around his tableware had gone white. 

“The orphanage couldn't even keep him. The other children were afraid of him, so they asked me to raise him, to help him overcome whatever demonic influences his mother had brought upon him.”

“I assure you, Mrs. Barebone, we do keep track of paranormal activities around all of America, and if there is something unusual, we would most likely know already. However, Credence is not -”

“Obviously, I failed. I couldn't lead him back on a good path – whatever is left of that dreadful woman is still in him, depraving him and I see myself running out of options, Father. I wanted to save him, I really did, but if this fails, I see myself lacking to protect him from getting lynched, like his mother before him and I-”

There was a loud crack of fists against the table, the girls yelped, and when Percival looked up, he could see Credence clenching his fists, staring Mary Lou down. “Stop it, right now. You have no right to talk about my mother.”

The air was crisp and everyone's eyes turned to Mrs. Barebone, who stared back at Credence in what looked like mild shock, before she caught herself and put a napkin against the corner of her mouth and then continuing to eat like Credence didn't just revolt against her, in front of the eyes of a stranger and his siblings.

They continued to eat in silence after that, and Graves tried to make eye contact, but the boy refused to even look up from his plate.

After that, they all returned to their rooms, and Percival had every intention to seek Credence out once everyone was asleep and.. talk this through. 

He didn't stay long enough to witness Mary Lou Barebone follow his adoptive son upstairs to his room. 

He didn't stay long enough to witness the silent command to hand her his belt.

\--

It was hardly 10 minutes after he had settled for bed, a bible folded on his lap for disguise in case the crazy woman decided to check in on him, and his enchanted smartphone lying inside of it for a discreet way of checking on his Auror's progress on the Barebone case. Obviously, they had to make a better check-up on Credence's real mother, and he would most likely have to interrogate Mary Lou on her again, on a name, the orphanage maybe, anything. At least, it seemed to be a topic she loved to rant about.

He was startled from texting his colleagues by a bloodcurdling scream, Mrs. Barebone, and up and about in mere seconds, running down the hallway to Credence's room.

Mary Lou was still screaming, lying on the floor on her back, by the door, and on the bed, there was no Credence but a black, shapeless mass. He could make out eyes, shining and white, and occasionally some arms, desperately reaching at nothing in particularly.

He swore, loudly, but it was completely swallowed by the screaming, and quickly he got his hands on the woman, helping her back on her feet. “Out.. Out, now!” he yelled back, slamming the door shut behind her and magically locking it, as if these thin walls could do anything to protect them from whatever Credence was becoming. 

Before he could help it, he drew his wand, casting silencing charms on the room, as well as some protection charms, because whatever was going on, it seemed unwise to grant this thing the slightest chance of escaping these walls.

“Credence!” he called, not sure if it would have any effect, if the boy could still hear him, if he was even still here at all. If he could control it. There was another screech and without a warning, the black mass shifted, whooshing at him so fast Percival almost didn't apparate quickly enough to the other side of the room. 

It was hard to dodge it, there was so much black mass, smoke, he didn't know, and so little space. Maybe it was foolish trying to keep it inside these walls.

“I'm not trying to hurt you – see?! I'm trying to help you, Credence!” he had the suspicion Credence had at least some kind of control over it, given their last incident. If he had to take a wild guess, he would take all this for an out-of-body image of the boy's fury – Credence had been angry for all that he could tell when he had left after dinner, more so than he thought he would witness him do, but it didn't add up, Credence wasn't magical. 

Percival would have noticed. 

And he certainly didn't know a spell that could do that.

The black mass was powerful, he could feel it, and also see it was enough so to scorch the carpet beneath it and to ruin it completely. If he would let it come at him – well, Percival didn't want to find out. 

“Calm down, my boy. Let me help you – like with the bruises, remember?” He didn't want to fight this, whatever this was, he couldn't possible give up on Credence and damage their fragile bond of trust. 

He had promised to help, not to hurt, and somehow, after raising his arms in defiance, the swirling of the black smoke ebbed away, white eyes winning back in clarity, clutching hands becoming more defined. 

Credence was back, again clutching his knees and rocking back and forth, crying and shaking and apologizing.

Graves was at his side faster than he could even blink, a hand sneaking around his neck and torso, pulling him close, far too intimidate for a priest, but he guessed it was what Credence needed at that moment. 

Well, it was he needed himself, to calm his racing heart. 

“What's wrong with me, Mr. Graves..” the boy whimpered, arms still drawn tight around his knees, but leaning slightly into the older man's body. 

Percival caressed his neck, and at that point, he was wondering who he was trying to comfort with that. 

“I.. I don't know, Credence.”

**Author's Note:**

> That's kind of my first fanfiction, I only have some roleplaying experience under my hat, so I'm totally up for criticism.


End file.
